


Stargazer

by Sophia_Bee



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, BAMF Charles, Destruction, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Environmentalism, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutant Hate, Mutant Rights, Post-Nuclear War, Soulmates, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5217851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier is a decedent of the few mutants who survived a massive radiation blast meant to wipe out their kind. He is also a Runner. He rides his motorbike across the desert in the darkness of night, dodging a dangerous landscape and giant armed sentries who are intent on wiping out any mutant they find above ground. He's one of the best, but lately he's been distracted by his dreams; dreams of grass, sunshine and a metalbender from the stars who tells him he loves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stargazer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarLord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarLord/gifts).



> Written for the prompt, "star gazing". 
> 
> Dearest StarLord - here it is. Lovingly written for you, the person who LOVES FLUFF. I don't know if you also love dystopian post nuclear fic as well, but maybe it will all match up. In the end, it's still FLUFF. Or at least, romantic as heck. I hope you enjoy this. 
> 
> Thanks so much to Roz for the beta.

Charles’ eyes flutter shut and he’s aware of the softness of his lashes against his own cheek. Fingers slide across his skin, feather light, then the metalbender is cupping Charles’ face in his palm.

“Stargazer. Where have you been all my life? How can I find you?” the stranger whispers. Charles’ lips part and a barely audible sigh escapes his lips. He’s lost in this caress, drowning in tenderness. He turns his face, pressing it into the man’s palm, liking its warmth against his skin. Charles’ eyes open, his lids lifting slowly, as if from a heavy sleep, and he finds his gaze met by pale blue eyes. The hand cradling his face guides him forward, closer. So close. Charles knows what comes next. Those lips on his, the slight pressure, the unanswered question. Charles knows. He knows what his answer is. It’s...his answer is….

Yes.

**BOOM**

Charles’ eyes fly open as a paralyzing chill of fear races through his entire body. His heart pounds, his muscles clench, and before he can even think about it, he’s scrabbling to get up, his thick boots slipping as they dig into the sandy floor of the cave he’d taken shelter in overnight. Holy shit, they’re here.

_Sentries._

“Fuck.” Charles croaks out, his mouth filled with the taste of dirt, his throat tight with fear, scratchy from the gray-black surface sand that seems to cover everything. His hand reaches to his hip and feels for his blaster. He crawls over and pokes his head out of the cave’s entrance and sees exactly what he expected: lights on the horizon, the machines.

**BOOM.**

There’s a flash in the distance. The ground shakes. Charles thinks for a moment how strange it is that the sound and the vibration never come together. It’s some sort of awkward, disjointed tango of destruction. No matter how many times he sees this, it never fails to strike him as strange. Inhuman. Machine-like.

Still, this is closer than he’s been ever before. Fucking two day run. Fucking sleep. Fucking beautiful man leaning over and brushing his lips against Charles’, keeping Charles trapped in his dreams. He overslept. How could he have overslept? He’s not safe in the tunnels. He’s on the god-damned surface.

**BOOM.**

Charles is not going to die today.

Charles brushes the surface sand off his pants, feeling how familiar the grit feels against his skin. How many times runs is it now. Ten? Twenty? A hundred? Most people never see the endless barren desert, never feel the roughness of surface sand on their fingertips. Most people in the tunnels dream of this. No one should. Endless overcast skies, sunless days full of gloom, and the sentries, always hunting, skimming over the desert, looking for signs of life, then destroying whoever they find.

**BOOM.**

It’s closer now. Charles pulls on his helmet as he dashes to his bike that sits nearby. _Shouldn’t have slept, shouldn’t have slept. Goddamn sleep._ running over and over in his mind, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He only has thirty more seconds…

BOOM.

Charles pulls the choke on his motorcycle, squeezes the clutch and the machine roars to life.

Twenty more seconds…

**BOOM.**

They’re drawing closer. He leaps on the seat and the twin boosters glow bright blue and start to vibrate. _God bless you, Hank McCoy._ Charles thinks to himself. McCoy is probably the reason Charles is one of the best runners out there. He’s also the reason Charles is still alive. At least he will be tonight. Charles thinks he needs to find a way to say thanks to his ace mechanic, but not now. Not with a Sentry hot on his ass. He crouches down low, hugging the machine. He revs the engine and the thick custom tires start to spin. It’s the moment of truth. Start too fast and you sink into the sand. Start too slow, and you end up vaporized, start just right…

Ten more seconds…

**BOOM.**

Charles smiles to himself as he pushes the button on his cycle. With a sudden burst of energy, it surges forward and suddenly he’s speeding through the darkness, gripping the handlebars tightly as he navigates over the barren landscape. The sounds of the Sentry fade into nothingness and the only thing Charles can hear is the wind in his ears. He’s heading home.

Start just right and you stay alive.

 

* * *

 

Charles has spent his whole life underground.

It began before he was born. A vaccination from the government. Take it and you don’t become a mutie. Those people. That was what they told you. There are still some people in the tunnels, some who remember that time. The elders. They talk about how people lined up, how families came in droves, how no one wanted to be a mutant. It was a dirty word.

The vaccine didn’t prevent you from becoming a mutant. The vaccine kept you from becoming dead.

Two years after the vaccination program, the vaccine’s real agenda was made clear. All in one day. It was a beautiful day, the elders say. Blue skies. _What are blue skies?_ , Charles wonders. He can only imagine. The skies he sees now are colorless, endless seas of gray clouds have enveloped the earth because the blast destroyed the atmosphere, as well as most living things. All to destroy mutantkind. The sun was shining that day. It wouldn’t ever again.

“Some escaped, you know.”

Charles is crouched next to his bike, his radiation jacket still on. He didn’t even bother to change before having his mechanic look at his bike. The bike saved his life, after all. It’ll need to do it again. He looks up and smiles at the speaker. Hank. His friend who, like so many others in the tunnels, believe that some escaped. They left the earth, flew away to the stars. The stars are just stories people use to keep their hope, but they aren’t true. There is no use in myth. All it does is distract from their life here. Charles doesn’t say this. He just smiles at his friend. Hank smiles back, his teeth shining white against his blue fur. Even if Charles doesn’t believe, he understands why Hank wants to.

“That’s what some say.” Charles murmurs, picking up a rag and wiping some of the oil from his hands. He puts the rag into the recycler, which will strip the oil from his hands and refine it to be used again. Here in the tunnels everything is scarce. They have to save whatever they can. The tunnels are a modern engineering marvel grown out of the need to survive, working like a fine-tuned machine to keep the remaining mutants alive and hidden.

“Escaped to the stars.” Hank continues, glancing upwards. There are no stars here. The only thing he can see is the dirt ceiling that is part of the only home he and Charles have ever known, but Charles knows his friend is picturing those stars he speaks of. Stars that even Charles, one of the few undergrounders who is allowed on the surface, has never seen.

“Stars are just stories, Hank.”

The memory of his dream comes rushing in, unbidden. _I am searching for you, Stargazer. Are you searching for me?_ Charles briefly shuts his eyes to push it away. There is no use in dreams. No use when one must survive.

“They’re out there, Charles.” Hank says with conviction, then frowns a bit as he stares down at the bike. “Christ on a cracker! You said you got close, but I had no idea how close. Fuck, Charles, this isn't like you.”

Charles puts his tool down and stands up, unfolding his compact muscular body as he goes. Runners have to stay in shape to say alive. He walks over to look at what Hank is staring at, heavy boots muffled on the soft rubberized tunnel floor. The entire tunnel system is designed to reduce sound. He frowns when he sees that the back third of the boosters are streaked with black. Sentry burns. Charles squeezes his eyes shut. Fucking beginner’s mistake, letting the machines get that close. If only he hadn’t slept too long. If only he hadn’t been trapped in his dreams.

The sentries didn't come right after the blast. There was a time when the surviving mutants were able to survive without also being hunted. The government didn't realize it had a problem right away. It thought the massive exposure to radiation had done it’s job. Those with the vaccination were left standing. Those without died. It didn’t take long. Radiation sickness was an ugly way to die, but with no treatment at least it was fast. Burns. Weeping sores. Those who didn’t die quickly killed themselves. The sentries appeared when the government realized not everyone had died. Some had survived. Their plan hadn’t entirely worked.

“Rookie mistake, Professor.” Hank says with a sigh.

Charles winces at the nickname. He has more completed runs than any other Runner so he’s the one whose job it is to train the newbs. Somewhere along the way the recruits started calling him ‘Professor’ and it stuck. Charles doesn’t think not getting killed should earn him special treatment, but he’s stopped protesting. Let those idiots call him Professor if they want to.

“Won’t happen again.” Charles mutters. He goes back to squat by the other side of the bike. Grabbing another rag he starts to wipe carefully at it. The gray dirt from the surface has a tendency to work its way into the components. Don’t clean your bike, it might stall out on a run, and then you’re guaranteed to be dead. Charles doesn’t want to be another dead runner, so he cleans his bike meticulously.

“I just want to see them.” Hank says, returning to his previous conversation, his tone almost wistful. Charles, who has been staring at the long shaft at the bike, jerks his head up and stares at his friend.

“See who?”

“You know, the stars.”

Charles thinks about the never-ending expanse of gray. He should tell Hank not to concern himself with myths, that their world is here, in the tunnels. He’s about to open his mouth when he remembers the words of the man in his dreams.

_Stargazer._

Maybe it’s okay to want to see the stars. No one really knows what they look like, except for a handful of elders. Maybe it’s okay to hope...

“Xavier!”

Charles and Hank turn at the sharp sound of his name. A woman strides into the room, another Runner. She’s wearing the customary anti-radiation jacket, a helmet tucked under her arm. She glares at him with her amber eyes and her figure changes as she’s prone to do with she’s angry, blue scales rippling down her arm.

“I heard you almost bought it.”

“Raven.” Charles bites out. She grimaces at him while pulling at the back of her head. With a small grunt, she manages to pull out a small length of string that’s been holding her fire-red curls, that now cascade down around her shoulders. A woman comes up behind Raven. She’s older, her face lined with experience. She has close cropped gray hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Professor.” The newcomer says, her voice warm. Charles nods at her.

“Irene.”

“Need to be more careful.” Irene says kindly as Raven glares at Charles through narrowed eyes. “We don’t want to lose one of our best.”

Irene is an elder. She’s also one of the original runners. She was still young when they went underground to escape the blast. All the elders alive now were just children. Somehow someone had heard about the plan to destroy Mutantkind and managed to warn a few. They had retreated to a series of old bunkers in the New Mexico desert, huddled beneath concrete walls that had been built to keep out radiation from a nuclear explosion in a war between the United States and the Soviet Union. Instead those walls kept mutants from being wiped off the face of the earth. It wasn’t long after the blast that the elders started building the tunnels that they call home today. And not much after that they realized that they would perish if they didn’t find a way to get supplies. That was when the runs started. Irene was barely a teenager at the time. She tells stories about how they started with a few bikes that had been salvaged from the surface, and sent people racing across the barren landscape searching for something - anything - that might keep the remaining survivors alive. They discovered that there were others who had escaped the radiations. Other bunkers filled with scared, starving people. It wasn’t long before they figured out how to stay alive in the wasteland that they have been gifted. Of course their enemies were busy figuring out ways to finish up the job they had botched.

The fences went up first. That’s what Irene says.

A few people at the beginning thought they could escape. They thought they could make it to the cities, back to the civilization that had tried to destroy them. They were starving, desperate, some even sick. They wanted the lives that had been ripped from them back. Surely they didn't mean to kill all the mutants? CSo they ran, made their way across the radioactive landscape, desperate and hopeless. Some made it to the cities. When they did, they were shot on sight. Some returned. Then one day those who returned talked about the fence. Tall, electric, barbed wire across the top. There were towers being erected. Concentration camps, trapping the mutant survivors, starving them. Irene says that’s when they became prisoners of their own country. That’s when they knew they need to make the tunnels work as their home or no one would survive.

The early runners had done raids on the cities. They had found gaps in the fence, made their way into the rows of brightly-lithigh rises, stolen parts they needed. Slowly they built up the infrastructure they needed to support hundreds of people living underground. Slowly they started to see some hope. And maybe, when they got strong enough. Maybe they could break out, fight to get their lives back.

Then the sentries came.

Irene lost her family in one of the early attacks. She doesn’t talk about it much.

It looked like the end until one of the tunnel engineers came up with the heat shields. They knew the sentries were scanning for large pockets of heat under the ground, so they constructed huge shields above each tunnel. It kept the mutants alive and no more attacks on the tunnels happened. It also kept everyone underground.

“There was a time when we went above.” Irene had told Charles one night. It was late and they were both coming in from a run. Charles was aching from crouching on his bike for hours, surface grit making his eyes itch, and he wanted to return to his quarters, but these moments of quiet, the times when Irene opened up, were rare, so he stopped and listened. “I remember the sunlight.” She had said, sounding almost wistful. “How bright it was. How warm. Couldn’t bear to look at it now. Been down here too long. But I remember.”

“Do you remember the stars?” Charles had asked, the man from his dreams hovering on the edges of this thoughts, whispering to him, _Stargazer_. Charles didn’t know why he kept saying that. Charles had never seen stars. Irene had looked at him with a sort of understanding then let out a long sigh.

“No.” She said, and suddenly her eyes held a sad, far away look. “No, I can’t remember the stars. We lost those a long time ago.”

After the sentries, the runs moved to night time. The bikes got bigger, sleeker. Runners still made it into the cities, attacked trains, still managed to steal parts, risking their lives. They also started bombing the tracks, raiding trains for supplies. They sprinted across the landscape on their modified bikes under the cloak of darkness, no one’s eyes able to take even the brightness of the cloud-filtered sun after decades of living underground. Their boosters lit up the night with their eerie blue glow as they sped fast enough that the human eye could barely see them. Most of them made it back safely. Some didn’t. Some weren’t fast enough, didn’t know the terrain well enough. Those runners ended up in the sights of the Sentries: death-dealing machines who spent their nights hovering over the desert, looking for mutants in their effort to finish the job that had been started eighty years ago. Charles wasn’t in danger. At least he didn’t think so, but he’d stopped that night. He’d slept where he thought it was safe, and when he slept, his dreams took him.

The dreams didn’t come every night, but they’d been coming as long as he could remember, ever since he was a boy. When they’d started he remembers the man was a boy like him, standing in a field, sunshine streaming over his face. Sunshine. Charles wonders where his brain came up with that. He has never seen sunshine, yet there that boy was with sunshine on his face, his dark hair sparkling with red highlights. He wasn’t happy. Charles could tell. His gaze was stoic, his mouth set. His eyes were filled with pain. Charles wanted to take that pain from him. He watched Charles, standing in that field with the sunshine. In grass. Only the elders knew of grass, but here the boy stood in never-ending green grass, stretching as far as the eye could see. Charles had just stared at him, wondering who he was and why he had invaded his dreams. Most of Charles’ dreams were random, dark, but this one was different.

Charles kept dreaming. The boy kept coming, watching him silently. Then one time he spoke to him. It was strange, to speak in a dream, to open his mouth and hear his own voice, as if they were standing face to face. Charles felt the warmth on his face, felt the dryness of his mouth, and his hands trembled. It was so real.

“Who are you?” he had asked. The boy had started at the sound of Charles’ voice, as if he was just as surprised.

“I...I am a metalbender,” the boy had stammered, sounding puzzled at Charles’ question. Charles liked his voice. It was warm despite his stoic appearance.

“Are you from the stars?” Charles had blurted out. The boy frowned and contemplated Charles question for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he answered. Now Charles frowned. “Are you?”

“No,” Charles had laughed. “Can I touch you?”

The boy didn’t answer, but he had reached out a hand, stretching towards Charles, reaching out until his fingers settled gently on the back of Charles’ hand. Charles had jerked at the contact, then his eyes flew open and he realized he was in his bed, staring up into the darkness, his whole body trembling. It was another dream, but it had been too real. That touch, those fingers on the back of his hand, as if the boy was flesh and blood. But he wasn’t. There was no sun. There was no grass. There were no stars. It had all been destroyed long ago.

Over time, Charles had grown and the boy in his dreams had stayed with him. The boy in his dreams grew too, and he became even more beautiful, until Charles would sometimes ache with how much he felt for this figment of his imagination. Ache for the touch of someone who did not exist.

_Stargazer. I love you. How can I love you?_

Charles would wake with tears in his eyes.

“You okay, Prof?”

Charles jerks at the sound of Irene’s voice and it drags him back into the present. She’s pulling off her radiation jacket and hanging it up in one of the lockers of the Runners’ quarters. Charles suddenly realizes he’s still dressed in his mission gear and starts to fumble with one of the zippers.

“Uh, yeah,” he answers. Irene’s eye narrow and she regards him silently. Charles glances down and pretends to be particularly engrossed in undoing the buttons of his own jacket. He manages to pull it off, revealing a plain black thermal shirt underneath. Everyone wears thermal clothing in the tunnels. It helps ward off the perpetual damp chill that seeps into the very bones of everyone who lives there.

“The dream.” She says. It’s not a question. Irene is the only one Charles has told about the man, and despite her mutation, she says she can’t make sense of it. Her gift has to do with the future, she had explained, and here in the tunnels there isn’t much future for anyone. Not one she can see.

“I…” Charles starts, feeling hot and embarrassed that he can’t keep his mind at bay, that it almost got him killed. “It was a long mission. I needed to sleep at that outpost. I just didn’t expect I would get dragged so deep.”

“Are they getting worse?” Irene asks as she toes off her heavy biking boots. Charles does the same, pushing his into his locker. They are covered with surface dust, but they do the job of keeping him safe from flying debris as he barrels across the desert. He pulls his holster back on, subconsciously patting his blaster, then slips his feet into his soft tunnel shoes, specially designed to reduce sound.

“I don’t know.” Charles ponders, “Not really. Maybe more frequent. They just feel, kind of closer.”

Irene’s mouth twists a little, as if she wants to say something but is holding back the words. She smiles kindly then pats Charles on the shoulder, almost the way a mother might. “Let’s go eat.”

The elders speak of food before the blast. They talk of fruits and vegetable, breads, meats. In the tunnels everyone exists off of highly nutritional bars, that fill you up easily but taste like nothing. Still mealtimes are a time of gathering. The tunnel dwellers eat in shifts, the giant echoing dining hall filling with men, women, children, the overhead lights flickering a pale blueish light. It’s one of the few places no one cares about how loud you are due to extra insulation added by the engineers. Mealtime is a time to gather, to share stories, to be a community. Some of the younger mutants, ones who have been born into the darkness of the tunnels, cluster around the elders and listen to tales of what it was like before. Children chase each other around the perimeter of the tables, shrieking with glee. They are happy, knowing no other life. All the people in one space make it warm, almost homey, despite the endless eerie glow of the energy-saving lights. It’s one of Charles’ favorite times of the day.

Charles follows Irene past the food station, where they both pick up their rations, along with a cup of strong coffee. Coffee happens once a day and everyone looks forward to it. They make their way through the crowded room and find the table where the runners sit together. Runners don’t have families or kids. Most are young, because when they do find someone they want to spend their lives with, they tend to stop doing the runs. Too much of a chance of leaving someone widowed. Raven is already there. She’s shifted into her blue form and is sitting next to Hank, almost blending into his blue fur. They’re laughing about something and Charles hopes Raven isn’t trying to charm Hank into jacking her bike like his. Raven is the fastest Runner after him and he doesn’t need his own mechanic helping her beat him. He levels a glare at Hank who offers up a sheepish smile. Remy is on Raven’s other side, a quiet kid with a strange accent. His parents are Louisiana French and have managed to maintain their language and accents despite being the third generation to live in the tunnels. Charles worries about Remy. He’s young and prone to taking risks, and he knows from experience it’s only a matter of time before one of the sentries catches up to the newb. Dead man riding. It’s hard sitting across from someone you’re pretty sure won’t be around much longer.

Charles sets his tray down and slides into his chair. He takes a moment to poke at the dry cake that sits on it, wishing for a little more flavor, but stops himself. It’s what keeps everyone alive. He should be grateful. He lifts it to his mouth and takes a bite. It crumbles in his mouth and he grimaces.

“Rough ride?” Remy asks, his voice low. Irene glances up at the question and catches Charles’ gaze. News travels quickly in the tunnels.

“Yeah.” Charles grunts. He doesn’t really want to talk about it. He got sloppy. He almost got hit. It reminds him that no matter how good he is, his days are numbered. Every Runner lives on borrowed time.

His failure reminds him of the dreams.

_Stargazer._

The way the metalbender’s fingers felt on his skin. Charles shakes his head, trying to shake away the memory, stay focused.

“They want us to hit a supply train,” Raven says. Charles looks her way, unable to disguise the surprise on his face. She arches an eyebrow and sneers at him. Raven is the closest to a bratty younger sister Charles has. She takes great pleasure in challenging Charles’ authority and is relishing that she knows something he didn’t know already. He forces his face to neutral, ignoring the way she taunts him.

“So soon.” Charles murmurs, mostly to himself. The run where he was almost taken out by a sentry was a dangerous one. They needed parts from a city in the south. A two day run, breaking into a warehouse, then bringing the score back. Electronic parts needed to keep the air filtration system running. For a few years they’d been able to use teleporters to get in and out of the cities, but then the government had figured out how to block them. Now they have to do it the human way. Ride fast, hit hard, run back and don’t get caught.

“They need supplies for the crap they feed us.” Raven grunts while dropping her hard cake onto her tray. It clanks a bit and suddenly all eyes are on her. Charles knows she likes it like this.

“The crap that keeps us alive,” Irene says gently. Raven’s face softens. She’s willing to challenge Charles, but she always backs down when it comes to Irene.

“Yeah, that crap,” Raven mutters, glancing down at her tray. Charles turns his attention back to Irene, who is looking thoughtful. Charles doesn’t have to use his abilities to know what she’s thinking. He rarely uses his telepathy in the tunnels anyway. Living in such close quarters, the less he knows of the thoughts in the heads of the people around him, the better. She’s worried. So is Charles. A run so soon isn’t usual. And he knows they have enough supplies for the cakes. He was on that run a couple months ago, hitting a supply train. No, something is going on. He suspects it’s something other than supplies for more food. Charles’ thoughts flit to rumors he’s heard: that they are finally going to stand up, to fight against the people who have tried to destroy them for the last eighty years. Then again, a tunnel in the west had tried a few years ago. They had stolen enough weapons to start fighting against the government, to destroy buildings in the nearest city. The humans might call it terrorism, but Charles saw it as desperation, fighting for the freedom that had been taken from them decades ago. Somehow the Sentries had found their tunnels and had destroyed them in a matter of hours. Someone was probably captured and tortured. Probably a Runner. Charles shivers at the thought. Capture is the one thing all Runners fear.

Charles picks up his cake and takes another bite. It’s as dry as sawdust, but that’s no different than usual. A long drink of coffee helps wash it down. He’s grateful for the coffee, was glad to see it on the train they’d hit last month. That reminds him of the rumored run and the fact that he knows it’s not to get what they’re being told. Is there something afoot no one has told the Runners about? Considering the fate of the tunnels in the West, leaving the Runners in the dark might be part of the plan.

Raven stands up and taps Hank on the shoulder. Charles frowns a little. He reminds himself to make Hank pinky swear that he won’t give Raven the same boosters he fitted Charles’ bike with. And to remind Hank that no matter how many times she pushes her blue breasts at him, Raven doesn’t play for his team, she’s only trying to get something out of him, and that both of them being blue does not mean they have things in common. Jesus fucking Christ, sometimes he feels like he’s babysitting a bunch of kids around here.

Other tunnelers are starting to finish their dinners. People stand, call for their kids. Trays clatter on the table by the door, waiting to be picked up by the dishwasher. There is a low hum of conversation, a pleasant sense of community. A bit a singing is heard from a group as they leave, an old song from before the blast. It’s a song Charles remembers his mother singing to him, before she took to drinking the cheap grain alcohol people produced in their rooms, and stopped being a mother to him. She’d never gotten over the fact that they had to leave the surface permanently. She’d died when he was young, leaving Charles yet another tunnel orphan without a family, until he’d found the Runners.

Charles stands up. His legs ache a bit from sleeping in that cave. He thinks about his bed. It will be good to get some sleep tonight. He hopes he won’t dream. But part of him also hopes he will. He wants that touch back. Those lips on his. So real that he aches. Still, to be drawn so deep, to be so consumed that he cannot leave the dream. It leaves Charles feeling unsettled, like there’s something out there, waiting. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a vast unknown and something about that scares him.

Charles starts to walk over to the table where everyone has been leaving their trays, when someone bursts through the dining hall doors hard enough to send them banging against the wall with a loud clang. The talking in the room dies down suddenly. A mug slips from someone’s hand and clunks onto a table. A child in the corner cries softly. All the eyes in the room shift towards the intruder.

“War!” the person says in a strong, clear voice. It’s a female voice, a familiar one. Charles feels a chill run through his body and his hands release the tray he’s holding, sending it clattering to the floor. As if in slow motion, he looks towards the doors, towards the voice.

It’s Jubilee.

She’s standing in the doorway, her chest rising and falling, her legs spread wide and her hands clenched in fists, plasmoids streaming from her hands. Jubilee started with the Runners at the same time as Remy. She’s a petite Asian woman, easily dismissed because of her size, but one of the fiercest fighters Charles has ever trained. He stares at her and his hand automatically feels for the blaster that sits in the holster, a pretty new laser weapon brought back from a raid a few years ago. Every cell in his body tingles. The whole room is silent and all eyes are on the Runner standing in the doorway.

“Jubilation.” Irene says, her voice breaking the silence. Her words are measured, calm, but Charles knows her well enough to sense the panic that sits beneath those words. “What happened?”

“The city.” Jubilee gasps. “The East City. It’s in flames. And the Sentries are out in force. I wasn’t able to complete my run. Had to come back in the light….half blind, but I could still see the fires. The military. They’ve finally decided to finish us off. It’s war.”

It’s been war for the last eighty years, Charles thinks to himself.

A wail breaks out somewhere in the room. Children start sobbing. Parents hold them closer. Charles swallows the lump that’s risen in his throat. His mouth is as dry as surface sand. The day of reckoning has finally arrived. Charles has always known it would come. Everyone did. The tunnel mutants have been living on borrowed time, each generation waiting to see if they would be the one that would face annihilation. It seems their time has finally arrived. The government has finally decided to finish the job.

“Have you told the leaders?” Irene asks.

“No.” Jubilee pants. “I came here first.” Irene strides over to where Jubilee is standing. She puts a hand on her shoulder, then turns and looks out at the people in the lunchroom, her face stern, mouth set.

“We knew this day might come,” Irene says, her voice steady. “We will fight for our freedom. We will not let them destroy us again.” She clenches her hand into a fist and Charles watches as she raises it into the air, holding her arm steady and strong. “Our terms this time. By any means necessary.”

The room is quiet, everyone staring at Irene. No one expected that the fight for freedom or the rush towards death would start today. Charles looks around and sees nothing the fear on the faces of the people around him. He feels his own fear start rising then he looks at Irene as she stands bravely, her fist held high. Charles lifts his hands and brings them together, clapping, the sound echoing in the room.

“Mutant and proud!” Someone near him yells. Charles looks over and it’s Raven, who starts clapping with him. Then another person joins them, and another, until the whole room is filled with thunder. Charles tries to ignore the bile that rises in his throat. They all clap despite the fact that today is probably the day they will die.

Irene and Jubilee turn and leave. Raven comes to stand next to him, followed by Hank. They both look at Charles, who suddenly deeply regrets not stopping the Professor nickname, because his two friends are clearly looking to him for leadership. Charles tries to sort out the thoughts that are bouncing around his head.

“You have your weapons?”

They both nod.

“We should probably get back to our bikes. We may need to head out.

**BOOM**

Charles stumbles as the whole room around him shakes. He knows that feeling. It’s the same as the other night. Sentries. Jubilee was right. They’ve found the tunnels. The end is here. They're not going to make it to their bikes. They will die here. Tonight.

“Turn the tables over!” Charles yells. A man next to him, someone he doesn’t know, nods and runs over to a nearby table and tips it on its side. Charles gives him a thumbs-up and the man goes to the next table. Charles looks at Remy. “Get the kids into one area. Get them protected.” Remy answers, ‘yes’ then starts talking to anyone who is taking care of a child. Charles looks over at Raven. She offers him a wide, almost gleeful smile. Charles glares at her. “Weapons, Raven. We need to know who has weapons. We’ll need to have idea how long we can hold them back.”

**BOOM.**

The ground shakes. Charles stumbles. _Fuck._ Some dirt falls from the ceiling. Funny that he’d escaped death just the day before but it seems that today will actually be the day he dies. At least he will die fighting, not vaporized by some Sentry. The government will probably have to send soldiers. They can’t destroy the tunnels with Sentries alone. Not since the debacle in the West. The mutants had learned from that, fortified the tunnels, made them harder to destroy from the surface. If they were going to kill the mutants, wipe them from the face of the earth, they would have to look them in the eyes first.

“Where’s Irene?” Charles shouts.

“Not back yet.” Hank says. An explosion sounds in the distance. Then the sound of blaster fire. Screams. Charles swallows. He wants Irene here. If today is the day they die, the runners die together. They are family after all. The room shakes again. More Sentry blasts. A girl starts crying in one corner. Charles feels fear all around him, creeping at the edges of his mind. He pushes his shields out then goes to crouch behind one of the tables, Hank plopping down next to him.

“Well,” Hank says, checking his blaster, “It’s been an honor, Professor. No regrets, right?”

Charles doesn’t answer. No regrets? He thinks to his dreams, to the metalbender who has been with him for as long as he remembers, to how real it felt. There will be no dreams after today. He’s not afraid to die. He’s not afraid to leave this awful, dismal life behind, but he is afraid to lose what might be. Maybe he’s out there. Maybe he is waiting for Charles. Or looking for him. Now Charles will die, as will thousands of mutants, and he’ll never know.

_I will find you, Stargazer. I must._

Charles closes his eyes. He feels the edges of his eyelids wet with tears. His chest clenches tightly. Still, he cannot let these things rule him. Hank is sitting next to him, looking at him, a small frown forming between his eyes, the beginnings of doubt as Charles hesitates. All of the Runners are looking to him, and that means that even if it’s a lie, all they can know is that he does not have any regrets.

“No.” Charles says, opening his eyes, hoping Hank doesn’t hear the tremble in his voice. “No regrets.”

The room is quiet. There are still the sounds of fighting in the distance. Explosions, blaster fire, the occasional scream. Someone plops down next to Charles. He glances over and sees it’s Irene. She offers him a wan smile without much hope. He knows then that the only plan is that they will fight to the death. Raven is across from him. Remy is next to her. Everyone is holding their blasters. The silence is punctuated by the sound of a small child crying followed by the gentle shush of the child’s parent. Charles tries not to think about how much he hates this. Another blast shakes the room. More dirt falls from the ceiling. A closer explosion. The sound of voices. Yelling. Even closer. Footsteps. Another explosion. Charles closes his eyes, swallows hard. His heart beats in his ears. They’re not far away now. Probably just one tunnel away. Irene puts her hand on his and their eyes lock.

“It’s been an honor, Professor,” she says quietly. Charles wishes she could tell him it was all going to be okay but Irene has always been clear that her mutation is for the most part too nebulous except for the occasional moment of clarity.

“If I’m going to die, I’d rather die for freedom.” Charles says, “I’d rather die with you.” She smiles at him.

“Yes.” Irene says with a shake of her head. “I’m just glad it’s taken them this long to get us. Mutant and proud until the end.”

The doors of the dining hall fly open, slamming against the wall. The runners all stand and turn, blasters out and ready to fire. Charles ignores the way his heart pounds, ignores his dry mouth, and holds his blaster steady, ready to take as many lives as possible before they take his. He’s about to pull the trigger when his eyes widen in shock and recognition.

_Oh my god._

“HOLD YOUR FIRE!!!!” Charles screams, throwing his arms out wide, his hand still gripping his blaster. “HOLD. YOUR. FIRE.”

_Stargazer_

Ice blue eyes.

“You.” Charles gasps. “It’s you.”

A large group of soldiers crowd through the doorway of the dining hall and at their front stands a man. He is tall, towering above most of the men and women around him. His hair is darker than Charles realized, but he’s only seen him in the sunshine. Only in his dreams. He’s wearing a uniform of some sort, a long dark coat, a blaster gripped in his hand and he’s staring at Charles like he’s seen a ghost.

_Sunshine. You don’t know of sunshine, Stargazer? Where are you that it’s so dark? Where can I find you?_

Charles blaster drifts slowly down to his side. He feels the confusion of the people around him as he stares at the man, the man from his dreams. Then one thought breaks through, a single sentence, in a voice warm and loving. Irene’s voice.

_So this is how it was going to play out. I had wondered._

Charles glances over at Irene and she smiles at him.

“He’s here, Professor,” she says, almost serenely, “I saw this, but I didn’t know if it would be the way it happened. I saw other ways too, full of death and destruction. This is better.”

Charles nods. Yes it is. He steps around the table he’d been planning to use as a shield, tucks his blaster back into his holster then walks towards the man, the metalbender. His chest feels tight. His head is spinning. Still, he moves forward, placing one foot in front of the other, coming closer and closer, step by step. Finally he stops, standing in front of the man and his hands tremble. All he wants to do is reach out and touch…

“You found me,” Charles whispers hoarsely.

“Stargazer,” the man whispers back. Charles feels his heart contract at the familiar sound of his voice. He’s real. He’s here.

“No.” Charles gasps, his voice raw and trembling. He feels all the eyes in the room on him but he does not care. It’s just him and this man. The man he’s longed for. “Charles. I’m Charles. And I...I love you.” It’s the truth; Charles squeezes his eyes shut, unable to bear the emotion that surges through him. “Dear god, I’ve loved you my entire life.”

“Charles.” The man says thoughtfully, as if realizing something makes sense. “Yes, Charles. That’s right. And I…” The man stops and stares at Charles, his face filled with wonder, and he shakes his head slightly “You’re real. Stars above, you’re real. I’ve loved you my whole life too and you’re real. I didn’t...I didn’t know if I’d find you, but I have.”

Charles’ face is wet with tears. “Yes,” he whispers. He’s real and the metalbender, the man of his dreams, is as well. Living, breathing. Charles reaches out a trembling hand.

“Erik.” The man says. Charles stills. “I’m Erik.” He reaches out and grasps Charles’ hand in his. Charles closes his eyes and his heart pounds so hard he thinks everyone can hear it. They are surrounded by a crowd of humanity, tunnel dwellers who are staring at the stranger in wonder, mouths agape. Yet they are alone, eyes locked, like there have been so many times in his dreams. Not dreams. Hearts calling out to each other across the spans of stars. Destiny. Irene is standing beside Charles and she smiles, her eyes saying what her words do not.

_Finally._

Erik looks around at the faces that surround them. He drops Charles’ hand and Charles wants to beg for the contact again. Erik sweeps his hands outward in a grand gesture and says, in a loud, booming voice.

“You are free. Our people escaped death eighty years ago and went to live in the stars. Since then we have been trying to get back to Earth, to return and destroy the people who tried to destroy mutantkind. Today I am glad to tell you that you are liberated. You can go outside. You can live your lives. Mutantkind has been saved.”

The people around Erik cheer, their voices filling the dining hall and Charles sees a man come up beside Erik and whisper into his ear. Erik says something back and Charles catches snatches. _Food. Water. Get the doctors in._ He feels relief course through his body. Eighty years of tyranny broken, the destruction of his people avenged. He smiles. It’s over. Charles glances over at Hank, who is standing next to Raven with a grin that could be described as no less than goofy spread across his face. When he catches Charles’ gaze, he mouths, _The stars. They’re real_ in Charles’ direction. Raven stands with her arms cross against her chest, her scales rippling, and Charles can feel the distrust radiating off her. Then he looks at Irene. Her face is like stone, her mouth set in a grim line, but her eyes, lined with age, are shining with tears. She’s going outside again. Charles looks around to find Erik is looking at him.

“Charles.” Erik says, testing out Charles’ name, saying it like it’s a gift, “My Charles. I’d hoped you would wait for me. Come.”

Erik takes Charles’ hand in his and Charles nods, walking in the direction the taller man leads him. His whole body is abuzz with sensation, all focused on the contact point of their hands. Erik walks through the tunnels with the confidence of someone who knows his way around, and Charles can barely contain the thrill that courses through him. Finally they stop in a deserted storeroom and Erik turns towards Charles. He drops Charles’ hand then reaches up to run his fingers gently along Charles’ jaw. His long, slim fingers cup Charles’ face gently. Charles’ eyes flutter shut, his lashes dark against his pale, tunnel-dwelling skin. Erik’s head dips and his mouth meets Charles in a sweet, gentle kiss. Charles kisses him back, putting all his feelings into the connection, that touch of lips, exploring softly and gently. It’s the touch Charles has been waiting for his entire life. Erik pulls back mere centimeters and Charles’ eyes fly open to be met by Erik’s ice blue gaze.

“Stargazer,” Erik murmurs, his voice just like the voice in Charles’ dreams, “After all this time, I’ve finally found you.”

**~fin~**


End file.
